


Adore Her

by graygoyle



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Canon LGBTQ Female Character, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Minor Original Character(s), Porn With Plot, Post-Fire Emblem Fates: Conquest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graygoyle/pseuds/graygoyle
Summary: Three years have passed since the war between Nohr and Hoshido. While King Xander continued to rebuild his war-torn kingdom, Soleil decided to strike out on her own as a mercenary, leaving the Nohrian army and the friends she made during the war behind.While leading a successful band of mercenaries under the moniker The Adorer, she encounters her old friend, Sophie, and the two slowly begin to rebuild what they've lost.This mini-series is based on Soleil's "single" ending "Adorable Adorer."
Relationships: Soleil/Sophie (Fire Emblem)
Kudos: 17





	1. Hark, The Adorer!

A song of clashing swords filled the warm summer night with metallic clangor. The music reached the moon as a chorus of shouting men rose from the fray. In the middle, a woman danced to the tune. Her sword twirled, glinting silver, slashing scarlet smiles into the necks of the men that pined for her death. A lilting laugh escaped her lips as the barbarians, bursting with muscle and bloody scowls, fell on their knees before her, sending blood squirting against her. 

_ Hark, The Adorer!  _

_ Men fall to their knees before her!  _

In the woods, watching, a barefoot bard sang his song for the woman, strumming his callused fingers against the strings of his lute. His corpulent jowls trembled as he sang.

_ The bishop seeks to scorn’er,  _

_ For many a maiden know’er.  _

_ Oh, yes, they all adore her!  _

Spinning, rivulets of pale pink hair cradled her blushing face as the heat of battle flushed her skin. Blood sprayed from an unfortunate man as the edge of her sword kissed the side of his face, tracing down to his jugular. She smiled sweetly as he crumpled to the ground, soaking the earth with his life’s blood. 

“‘Tis my favorite song!” she called to the lute-player, breathless but joyous. “Encore! Encore!” 

“Anything for you, Adorer!” the bard cried happily.

The bard adhered to her request, strumming the same tune and humming the introduction. His rhythmical whimsies agitated the warring brigands. They turned from The Adorer to her musician with malice in their eyes. Around her, men still fought one another, parrying swords and swapping insults, but the song hailing the woman was loudest of all. 

_ She slays them with a smile,  _

_ All those men so vile.  _

_ None surpass her gile.  _

_ The Adorer, most worthwhile!  _

Music filled her ears, encouraging her sword to stab the backs of the men that dared turn on her bard. Cries of agony crafted the crescendo as more men met their cruel end, shedding blood onto her hungry sword. 

“You should know better than to turn your back on me,” The Adorer chided softly, smiling down at the corpse. 

“Retreat!” 

She looked up, shocked, watching as the barbarians gathered together for their escape. Blood and sweat slickened their leathered brows. Once they mobbed into one group, they all looked very much alike. Beastly men with patchy beards and battle scars, all looking as bad as they smelled. Their beady eyes glared collectively at The Adorer with a longing to kill. 

The Adorer sucked her teeth, tossing her sword up to rest on the padded shoulder of her black gambeson. “What? Party’s over already?” 

“You bitch! This isn’t the last you’ve seen of us!” one of them snapped as they ran into the dark of the forest. 

“I’m counting on it!” she called after them, laughing. 

One of her men, alike in beastliness but smelling less foul, came to her side. He was big and red in the face, with even redder hair. He was appropriately named Big Red. “Will we not give chase, lass?” 

She shrugged, looking bored. “If we kill them all in one night, we will be out of a job.” 

Big Red tugged on his scraggly beard. “Point taken. I like me havin’ a job.” 

Patting his back, she maintained her smirk. “How about we settle for a pint, hm?” She turned to all her men. “Drinks in town are on me tonight!” 

The men raised their fists in the air, hooting and hollering their excitement. She joined them. Together, The Adorer and her mercenaries howled like wolves. The heat of battle still pumped through her veins, warming her blood and blushing her cheeks. She longed to drag the edge of her sword against someone’s skin again and flay flesh from the men that dared to cross her. Thankfully, a lukewarm breeze shuddered through the leaves to quell her swelling bloodlust. 

The barefoot bard left the safety of the woods, entering the blood-soaked battleground with a smile on his beet-red face. He plucked his lute shyly as he stood in her shadow. “Adorer, you truly are as becoming as they say,” he murmured, eyes watering with awe. 

“And you are welcome to stay with me and my mercenaries as long as you like, Barefoot,” she replied. “As long as you continue to sing for me.”

He bowed. “I’d be honored.”

The natural music of the night returned once the battle ended. Crickets hummed from the shadows, joined by the trilling of frogs. The sultry evening clung to her clammy skin. She could feel her pink hair stick to the back of her neck and the sides of her face, and she shook it out, humming softly. Peace won once more. The reward for their victory would fill their pockets with gold for moons to come. Of course, the bandits would regroup and wreak havoc again eventually. When they did, The Adorer and her mercenaries would be ready.

From the darkness, she heard the whinnies of horses, followed by the clomping of hooves. Within the trees, the silhouettes of a calvary became apparent. On the horses, men in black armor sat. Nohrian knights. She felt her stomach sink. The night was just starting to get peaceful, too. 

“We got company!” she alerted her mercenaries.

The battle-hardened men readied their weapons, while her more jaded mercenaries merely glanced lazily into the woods before returning to their idle chatter. Around them, corpses lay, bleeding and disemboweled, stinking up the humid night with their failure. The mercenaries paid the bodies even less mind than the encroaching knights. 

Foremost in the calvalry was a chestnut stallion. Its eyes were black as the armor of its rider. An ornate cloth-of-silver caparison embroidered with satin black roses flowed from its haunches. Hot breath steamed from the destrier’s nostrils as it entered the battleground. The leading paladin’s polished armor mirrored the night sky, twinkling with the stars above. On his chest plate, the sigil of a dragon was engraved, harkening the King of Nohr. His dragon helm hid his face and shielded his eyes.

The Adorer stepped forward to meet the leading knight, keeping her blade resting nonchalantly on her shoulder. “There’ll be no need for the King’s justice today,” she assured him airily. “We’ve got this taken care of, as you can see.” She gestured to the abandoned corpses around her. 

The knight said nothing, only tugged on the reins of his horse so that he could view her from the side of his steed. “Fan out and apprehend any stragglers!” The helm muffled his voice, making it hollow. It was surprisingly feminine-sounding. His cavalrymen obeyed, galloping into the woods. 

“Why don’t you round up bandits somewhere else, hm? The Nohrian countryside is big enough for the two of us. No need to trample on my turf,” The Adorer said levelly. Her smile never faltered, though her patience waned. 

The knight hopped off his steed, patting its side. “This ‘turf’ belongs to a Nohrian Lord, and therefore belongs to the King that presides over him. We are needed here more than you.” 

“Well, you’re a tad late, knight.” The Adorer smiled haughtily. “We’ve already been hired by the Lordling in your stead. You see, while you and your men are playing in the castle, us mercenaries keep the peace.” 

“Yes, you keep the peace… for a price.” Though she could not see the knight’s eyes, she felt them staring into her. “But it’s always been that way for you, hasn’t it, Soleil?” 

Soleil froze. “How do you know my name?” 

The knight removed his helmet, unveiling that he was actually... a  _ her. _ Her hair poured out from her helmet like spools of starlight, framing her pale face. Her gaze, as strong and gray as a storm cloud, met Soleil’s unflinchingly. Only a slight wrinkle in her brow betrayed her annoyance. “I’m surprised you responded to it, considering you seem to go by something else nowadays.” Her helmet remained tucked under her arm, while she kept her lance steadily gripped in her other hand, ready for use. “What is it the songs say? Something about... The Adorer?” 

“Sophie?” Soleil whispered, eyes wide. 

She was as beautiful as she remembered; just the sight of her was enough to make Soleil’s heart ache. Although her bulky armor hid her body, Soleil knew what she looked like beneath it. Her body grew warm at the sight of her. A flush of memories flooded her. The battles they fought alongside one another, the nights they spent sleeping under the stars with their garrison, the long marches, late night talks, shared meals… Soleil was drunk with nostalgia as she reminisced. 

“It is true… that’s what they call me now.” Soleil shrugged. “I think it fits, so why not take on the name?”

Sophie smirked shrewdly. “So the lyrics about The Adorer must be true as well? About slaying men with a sword, and seducing women with a smile?”

Soleil laughed at that, eyeing her meaningfully with a grin. “I don’t know. We’ll see how tonight goes.”

Sophie blushed, rendered silent by Soleil’s charm. 

Soleil pounced on the silence, ready to play. “I see you’ve achieved your life-long dream of becoming a knight. You even got good ol’ Avrel to behave like a gentleman!” She nodded to her horse appreciatively. “How does success taste?” 

“It tastes better than what you’ve been served, I assure you,” Sophie said, frowning. 

“Ha! You’re serious as ever,” Soleil observed, smiling wryly. “My rose has grown more thorns since I’ve last seen her.”

“Years may have passed, but I’ve not forgotten our agreement. You’re not to call me ‘my rose,’ remember?” 

Soleil laughed. “Clearly you  _ have _ forgotten! We agreed that I may never call you ‘my flower,’ which I am happy to adhere to. ‘My rose’ suits you much better.” She gestured to the black roses stitched on her destrier’s caparison. “I see you’ve taken the sigil I suggested to you all those years ago. It’s quite becoming for one as beautiful as you.”

That made Sophie blush darker. Soleil couldn’t help but beam at the sight of it. Sophie’s expression quickly sobered. “Enough. I’m not here for flattery.” She nodded to the men surrounding her. “Interesting company you keep. Are they friends of yours?” 

“Business partners are more like it. These are my mercenaries,” Soleil corrected. She made the mistake of gesturing to a mercenary that happened to be picking his nose. 

“Charming.” Sophie did not seem impressed. 

Horses whinnied in the forest once more as the knights returned. One soldier stepped forward, his gray courser snorting as it trotted near the dead bodies. “We scanned the perimeter, Captain. Not a soul to be found.”

“Captain?” Soleil echoed in awe. “My, you  _ have _ been busy.”

“As have you,” Sophie said, glancing behind her to survey the battle damage. “I’m assuming this isn’t all of them?”

“You know bandits.” Soleil shrugged, sheathing her sword after she wiped the blood off on her padded trousers. “They multiply like rabbits when there’s coin to go around.” 

“I know. That’s why I’m here,” Sophie said. “Their actions are beginning to stunt the influx of food into the capital. We’re meant to bring an end to it.”

“Ah, so once it affects the capital it becomes the knights’ problem?” Soleil could not help the dryness in her voice. 

Sophie said nothing, only returned her helmet to her head. She turned to mount her warhorse once more, but Soleil stopped her, grabbing her arm. It had been a long time, too long, since she had last seen her old friend. She didn’t want it to end this way. “Wait, I’m sorry. I was being an ass,” Soleil said. “We should catch up! It’s been awhile. There’s a tavern in town near the inn I’m staying at called The Naked Lady--” 

Sophie scoffed, “Now that’s a name.”

Laughing, Soleil said, “Just hear me out! It’s a good time. It’s right across the street from Redwood Inn, you can’t miss it.”

“Of course you’d frequent an establishment called The Naked Lady,” Sophie muttered dryly.

“Is that a yes?” 

Soleil didn’t need to see Sophie’s face to know that she rolled her eyes. “I have a lot of responsibilities now. I can’t just run off to a tavern whenever I want.”

  
“Pity… Well, I’m there every night.” Soleil gave her old friend a final once-over with her leering eyes. “If you ever get bored,  _ Captain, _ feel free to find me.”


	2. What Was Lost

The sound of music blasted from the hinges of a modest wooden building. From a hanging sign, painted in black, it read, “The Naked Lady.” Within the tavern’s warped windows, dark silhouettes danced within a sultry orange light. Pandemonium bled from the establishment to fill the balmy night air, smelling of sweat and beer. It tickled Soleil’s nerves until they burst like fireworks. 

Any other night, Soleil would enter the tavern as cool as a fresh breeze. But as she thought about Sophie, she felt her usual airiness peter out. She started to feel…  _ nervous _ . Three years had come and gone since she last saw her. The time lost between them was more foreboding than the fiercest of dragons; at least a dragon could be slain. Time could never be conquered. Of course, two days had come and gone since she had last seen her. There was a good chance Sophie would never show, but the invitation still hung in the air with the humidity, waiting to be accepted. Soleil had not lost hope. 

Sucking her teeth, Soleil pushed the tavern doors open. A few men looked her way, but as soon as they recognized her smug grin and flowing, pale pink hair their lustful eyes returned to what remained in their steins. A man could want but never have The Adorer. The women that looked her way did not have to slacken their longing stares, for they knew if they met The Adorer’s gaze long enough, they could be hers. Soleil looked at none of the patrons, though. Instead, her eyes found the bartender. He was a husky man with knuckles so broad they could punch holes in oak trees. Wiry black hair covered nearly every inch of him, but that did not stop him from showing it; his white tunic hugged his muscles, dipping at his neckline to show off his hairy chest.

“Yer blasted mercenaries are drinking me dry, Adorer,” the bartender greeted her gruffly. “They best not be stirrin’ up trouble tonight... what with King Xander’s men sniffin’ about.” 

Soleil hopped up on a stool with a smile, resting her elbows on the sticky wooden bar. From her hand she flicked a goldpiece his way, forcing him to catch it before it pelted his eye. “For your troubles, Hops,” she purred. “I assure you, we have nothing to worry about. Those knights won’t be bothering us.” 

Hops snorted, pocketing the coin. Without needing to be asked, he reached for a stein, filling it with ale until it mantled at the top. “If they go tearin’ shit up again, I’ll have yer head.” 

“Take my head, and you’ll run out of business.” Soleil winked, unbothered by his threat. Hops slid the full stein across the bar at her with a grunt, sending foam bubbling from its brim. Soleil caught it, taking a hearty swig. “You and I both know we’re your best customers.”

“Aye, but yer also the reason I’ve had to get the windows replaced three times this moon alone,” Hops pointed out. He leaned across the bar, eyes narrowed. “Whatcha lurking around here for anyway? Dontcha got some bandits to catch?”

“Aw, you wound me, Hops,” Soleil protested. She reached over the bar to pinch his nose playfully until he growled. “You know I sent those brutes running with their tails between their legs days ago.” She took another long pull of her ale, feeling it warm her stomach. 

Hops gave a throaty chuckle. “That ya did, that ya did. Ya know I’m just pullin’ yer tail, Adorer. Without you’n yer gang of brutes, our little village would be nothin’ but cinders by now.”

“There’s no greater crime than robbing this world of such fantastic beer,” Soleil said, smiling as her blood warmed with the golden alcohol. “You really do brew the best.”

“Ya flatter me.” Hops gave a bow. 

From the back of the bar, insults were thrown, followed by chairs as two men went at each other’s throats over some trivial matter that lost its meaning at the bottom of their empty steins. Soleil watched them lazily as they threw punches. The musicians composing the tavern’s band took notice of the chaos and found it humorous to play along with the violence; suddenly, the bar seemed to explode with life. The wail of the bagpipes meshed with the excited clatter of the tambourine-player. Soleil felt the bass of the pounding drums in her chest, making her smile. There was always a show at The Naked Lady. 

“Hops! Pour me another, please.” Soleil set the stein back down on the bar, watching as the burlier of the brawling men knocked his opponent to the floor with a roar. 

“Dammit, if those brutes are yers, Soleil--”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Hops, they ain’t mine,” Soleil assured him with a laugh. “My men may be rough, but they at least have the decency to duke it out over something worthwhile, like money or women.” 

Hops slammed a full stein on the bar with a scoff. “What’s got you in such a good mood lately, anyway? I’d thought you’d be more sour than spoilt milk by now. Ain’t this about to be the third night you go home without a lady to warm your bed?” 

Soleil shook her head. “An old friend is supposed to visit me. It’s got my spirits higher than a soaring falcon.” 

“An old friend, or an old flame?” Hops joked as he polished a steel flagon. 

“It’s not like that,” Soleil murmured, smiling fondly as she gazed down at her reflection in the golden ale. “We go way back… We fought together in the war.”

Hops stopped polishing the flagon, smiling. “Ah, so a flame yet to be yours?” 

Soleil scoffed, blushing, “Just pour your beer, Hops.”

Hops laughed heartily and went back to bartending for some particularly lush women. Soleil could feel them whispering and looking her way, but she paid them no heed. Instead, her heart took flight at the sight of a familiar face entering the bar. Sophie wore a gray gambeson, and the padding hugged her curves pleasantly. Her white breeches were accompanied by knee-high leather boots that flattered her strong legs. The studded belt she wore at her waist sagged slightly against the wait of her scabbard and sword. She searched the bar desperately, as all people do when they’re looking for a familiar face in a swathe of strangers. She didn’t have to search for long. Soleil was at her side in an instant, leaving her stein forgotten on the bar. 

“You came,” Soleil gushed, greeting her with a hug. Her silver hair smelled of chamomile. 

“You seem surprised.” Sophie returned the hug, but only briefly, for the clatter of the brawling men caught her attention. She frowned, nose wrinkling. “What’s all this then?”

“Just your everyday village politics, I assure you.” Soleil laughed. She placed her hand at the small of Sophie’s back, guiding her through the sea of sauced patrons, each more drunk than the last. “It’ll be over once one of them gets a chair broken over their head.”

“Politics? This is just barbarism!” Sophie protested. 

“You’ve been cooped up in that castle for too long, my rose,” Soleil said. “The soldiers we fought with in the war weren’t much different. Or have you forgotten?” 

Sophie snorted, still gawking at the brawlers. “Perhaps I have. This is quite the reminder.”

Soleil found her table, untouched, in the back corner, where it was safe from the chaos. A single candle flickered at the center, shivering as a barrel-bellied brawler shouted from across the bar and beat his chest. Spittle rained from his lips as he heaved a chair over his head, breaking it on his opponent’s hairy, shirtless back. Splinters rained over the band like confetti as they played their music fervishly. Cheers and hollers cried out, signalling the end to the evening’s violent festivities.

Pulling a chair out for Sophie, Soleil gestured for her to sit. “You’re too kind.” Sophie accepted the seat, folding her hands neatly on her lap. 

Soleil plopped herself down in the chair across from her friend, feeling the warmth of the beer rise to her cheeks. “So, what’s your poison? This place has got beer, beer, and more beer.”

“No wine?” Sophie asked. 

“No  _ good _ wine,” Soleil said, smirking. “Trust me, my boy Hops brews the best beer you’ll ever taste this side of the country. It’s liquid gold.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” Sophie glanced around the bar, taking in the sights and smells, both of which weren’t the most appealing. Seeing her childlike curiosity reminded Soleil of Sophie’s days as a fledgling squire, constantly stumbling through life in her haste to achieve knighthood. “This place sure is lively.”

“Well, it’s the only place in town anyone can take a load off. None of the other taverns survived the war. The rest of town is built by artisans’ shops and old inns.” Soleil gazed out the fogged up windows, feeling oddly nostalgic.  _ It’s probably the alcohol,  _ she decided. “It’s not much, but it’s their home. The barbarians would’ve leveled this place had I not got here in time. It was bad.”

Sophie watched her with a strange expression. “And what do you call home, Soleil?” 

“Home?” The word felt alien as it left Soleil’s lips. It was a word from a language she did not speak. She only knew a vagabond’s dialect. Patting her chest, she sighed thoughtfully. “All of Nohr is my home now.” She reclined in her seat as she regaled her adventures. “I spent a lot of time in Macarath. That city spoiled me. Name any pleasure, Macarath has it.  _ That’s _ where you go for good wine. Met most of my guys there too, what with it being a gambling city and all. There was always men needing to get out of a tight spot.”

“Criminals, you mean?” Sophie corrected, eyes narrowed. 

“Not necessarily.” Soleil shrugged. “They were in over their heads is all. Most of them fought in the war effort, you see. Once they were no longer able to gamble their lives away on the battlefield, they took to gambling their pensions instead. I simply gave them another chance at life. Facing the hangman’s noose over something as trivial as debt is a waste of good men in my eyes.”

“How did you do it?” Sophie leaned in. 

“In return for their servitude, I paid off their debts. They work for me now.” Soleil smiled at that. “And they’re damn good workers too, well, most of them anyway. Some got a touch of laziness.”

“I’m impressed. You really seem to thrive on your own.” She laughed sadly. “You know, when you left, I worried about you. A lot. You never wrote.”

Shame clouded Soleil’s expression. She found herself longing for another drink. “I hadn’t the time to.” 

“You never found the time to write  _ once _ in three years?” Sophie pressed. “It was hard not knowing whether you were even alive or not after being with you for so long. For awhile I thought you were dead. I mean, the craziness of it! Striking out on your own into a war-torn country! You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“Sophie, I’m sorry.” Soleil reached across the table, holding her hand. Painful memories churned up from inside her, sloshing around her insides. For so long she wished to digest them, but they always bubbled back up at the most inconvenient of times, as all buried memories do. “You know I couldn’t stay. Knighthood and a life in court just isn’t for me, it never was. I felt so alone after the war ended; everyone went their own way or had a calling to answer, I was just… there.” 

Sophie in turn squeezed Soleil’s hand. “You were never alone, Soleil. I wish you realized that before you left.”

“I realize that now.” Soleil smiled. Seeing Sophie’s face, even melancholy, brought her a strange sense of comfort. “Is that not worth something?” 

“It--” Sophie was promptly interrupted. 

“Soleil! Long time no see.” 

One of the tavern girls called out to Soleil, waving from the crowded end of the bar. She wore a simple green dress, but it was the lacing that made men and women alike blush as she passed them by. Her leather girdle tightened at her supple waist, accentuating her already curvaceous body dangerously. She kept her chest exposed and lifted for everyone to admire; by the end of the night, she would have napkins and handkerchiefs rolled with coins sitting in her cleavage. Soleil respected her for that more than anything; if she had a body like hers, she’d have no need to make a living with her sword. 

The tavern girl parked up beside their table. Her green eyes never even glanced at Sophie. “You look as dashing as ever.”

Soleil cursed herself as she scrambled through the recesses of her troubled mind in search of a name. She found none. So, she would be known as Tavern Girl (much to Soleil’s chagrin). Still, she failed to forget the curve of her bottom lip, and how it felt to kiss and suck on it. She eyed her ginger hair, twined into a long fish-tail braid, and was reminded of how soft it felt in her fingers, and how she gasped so sweetly at the slightest tug. Their shared night seemed like so long ago, but it couldn’t have been more than a moon. 

“Ah! Hello… you. It’s been far too long indeed.” Soleil appraised her with another glance, eyes lingering on her neckline, where her ginger freckles gathered and spreaded onto her chest. She remembered how the skin there blushed against her lips. Soleil smiled, giving Tavern Girl a wink. “But no matter how much time passes, I can never forget your beauty.” 

She giggled; her blush darkened, and Soleil found herself staring more at her exposed skin. “I hear you are working for a Lord now. How is that treating you?” Tavern Girl asked.

“It’s thankless work, but thankless work tends to pay the best.” Soleil shrugged. 

“That it does.” Tavern Girl smiled. “What’ll it be? The usual?”

“Yes, for two please.”

“Is this your friend?”

“Oh, yeah. We go way back. This is Sophie, she’s one of King Xander’s knights—”

“Sophie?!  _ The _ Sophie? As in the Knight of Black Roses?” Tavern Girl practically squealed. “To think, we’d have such an esteemed knight under our humble roof! I must let the bartender know. He would surely want to know the Knight of Black Roses is sampling his brew!” 

“That won’t be necessary. I am just like any other patron,” Sophie said, smiling graciously. Soleil had to render respect to her old friend. She showed not the slightest offense at being ignored before. If anything, she was as pleasant and pristine as a forest’s stream.

“If it please you,” Tavern Girl said, bowing her head to the knight. She took off to the bar in a rush for their drinks. 

Sophie tapped her fingers against the table. Soleil saw a glint of amusement in her gray eyes. “Poor girl. Does she know you don’t remember her name?”

Soleil chuckled softly, running her fingers through her pink hair as she struggled to hide her embarrassment. She recovered with a sly remark. “Why would I remember her name? It was mine she was moaning all night.”

Sophie sucked her teeth, glaring across the table at her. “Don’t be crass, Soleil.”

Soleil winked at her. “If you expected me to be anything else, you shouldn’t be sharing a drink with me.”

“So, the songs  _ are _ true, then? The Adorer… skilled with the sword, twice as skilled at seducing women,” she drawled. “As soon as those songs reached the capital, I suspected they were of you.”

“Most songs are true,” Soleil pointed out. She smirked. “And it seems you’ve made a name for yourself as well. Knight of Black Roses, eh? Catchy.” 

“Don’t poke fun at me,” Sophie scorned, brows furrowed. 

“My dear rose, I would never! How’s it you earned the title anyway, hm?”

A soft blush flooded Sophie’s cheeks. “You’d only laugh.” 

Soleil leaned in, intrigued. “No! No, I wouldn’t. I promise.” She offered her a smile as she moved to reach her hand across the table and pick her chin up. Her brown eyes stared into hers. “You can tell me anything.”

“Well, once I became a captain, I was able to choose my sigil. Once we earn a sigil, we also get to pick a title, which is used to announce us when we enter court or participate in tournaments. I chose… Knight of Black Roses.” 

Soleil sat back, not wanting her fingers to linger too long near Sophie’s face. Her mind already wandered to deviousness. She didn’t need added temptation.“But, that doesn’t explain why you’re famous. No offense, but most of the commoners around here don’t sing praises for all the King’s men. You must’ve done something special.”

“You’re familiar with the jousting tournaments, yes? They’re a great sport within Windmire.” She had a small smile as she shrugged. “I’ve never lost, not once, since becoming a knight. I’m undefeated.”

“That’s incredible!” Soleil praised, eyes wide. “I’ve seen the guys that participate in that stuff. They look like monsters! To think, clumsy little Sophie ended up dismounting all of them.” 

“I’m not as clumsy as I used to be!” Sophie protested. 

“Draughts for the ladies!” Tavern Girl returned with two steins. Waves of foam dripped from their lips and onto the table. 

“Thank you, beautiful,” Soleil purred, taking the stein with a smile. Tavern Girl was gracious enough not to linger after serving their drinks. She gave a small curtsey and took off to the next table. The corner of Soleil’s lips twitched. She tried to hide it by taking a swig of her draught. “A knight as esteemed as yourself has to be the object of affection for men and women alike!” 

“I don’t have time for such things.”

“You do now.” Soleil smirked, reaching across to play her fingertips across her knuckles. “I did all the work for you. Those bandits won’t be back for awhile.”

Sophie’s blush darkened. She pulled her hand away from Soleil, cradling the base of her stein between her palms. Whatever she saw in her reflection within the golden brew made her frown. 

“Have my jests gone too far?” Soleil asked. Though only a table sat between them, Sophie felt leagues away. 

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… You disappeared, Soleil. I have long come to terms with the idea of never seeing you again. Now that you’re here, all the emotions I went through are coming back, and I don’t know how to make them stop.” Sophie brought her stein up to gulp at the ale hungrily. 

“I’m feeling them too,” Soleil said. And she was. Guilt, sadness, regret, joy, longing, and so much more conjured within her heart, casting a spell so complex, it was paralyzing. Soleil could do nothing but sit and allow them to take hold, with nothing but her ale to scotch the blow. “I was running away, that’s what it was,” she confessed. “But I’m not running now. I’m not afraid to feel what I felt then, you shouldn’t be either.” 

Sophie was quiet. The alcohol warmed her features and sat heavy on her eyelids. Her glossy gaze found Soleil across the table, darker with the storm within. “You’re not running? Then... why not join the knights, Soleil?” she asked suddenly. “The Kingdom could use your skill as a swordsman, and it’d be a respectable life. You’d receive more than just coin for your sacrifice, you’d receive honor and prestige and land and--”

“I’d sooner take up chains and be a prisoner,” Soleil interrupted. “At least as a prisoner, I don’t have to dance to the beat of the courtiers’ drums. A life fettered to the King is no life at all.”

Sophie’s face twisted with disappointment. Her gray eyes, now downcast, lingered on the droplets of alcohol sliding down her wooden stein. “But you said--”

Soleil brought the fingers that were playing against the ridges of Sophie’s knuckles around to squeeze her hand. Her voice softened when she said, “I am happy here, Sophie, truly I am. I love waking up and not knowing where the next day will take me. I can’t live a life behind the walls of a castle. I need to feel the wind in my hair and the sun on my face.” She brought her hand up to caress her flushed cheek. “When I said I’m not running, I meant I’m not running from you.”

“I was a fool to suggest such a thing.” She smiled sadly. “We are so different, you and I.” 

“And yet, here we are, sharing a table and toasting to one another’s success.” Sophie’s face felt warm, probably due to the alcohol; her thumb traced along her cheekbone. Soleil murmured, “Let’s just enjoy the moment, hm? Moments tend not to last long.”

“You may not be running now, but you will eventually.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Soleil murmured. “I’m here.” 

“For now.” 

“Is that not enough?” 

“Is it so wrong to ask for more?” Sophie tilted her head, pressing her lips to the inside of Soleil’s palm. “It’s been years. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to lose you again.” 

Soleil frowned, pulling her hand away. “Sophie…”

She laughed, bitter. “Right. I can’t lose what I never had.” 

“You have me now. I’m here, Sophie.” Desperation clawed at her. The desire to unleash all the emotions swelling within her and realize their meaning was stronger than ever. What the war prevented her from feeling years ago returned, stronger than ever. She could not bury it again. “If we only have tonight, why not make the most of it? Don’t leave me.” 

“You’re so unfair, asking me not to leave.” 

“I know,” Soleil rasped, leaning across the table. Sophie didn’t back away or turn her head. Instead, she met she found the same emotions in her eyes that reflected in her own: fear of the unknown, but the desire to discover it. 

“I really hate you, sometimes,” Sophie whispered against Soleil’s lips, bringing her hands up to grip her collar, pulling her in. 

“I know.” 

Soleil pressed her lips against Sophie’s, kissing her softly. The taste of ale that lingered on her lips was stronger on her tongue, and Soleil rolled her own against it, enjoying every stolen second. She traced her hand from her cheek to her silver hair, pulling her close as they kissed. Sophie mumbled something into her mouth, but the words were lost as Soleil sucked her lip and made her gasp. 

“Stay with me,” Soleil whispered between kissing her. “At least for tonight.” 

Sophie gazed up at her, whispering, “At least for tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> The writers did my girl Soleil dirty in the Fates series. She had way too much potential to be given the endings and support conversations she got in canon. This is by no means a serious re-write of her character, but a fun series meant to be enjoyed by those looking for some fun, fluff, and lesbians.


End file.
